


The Thief

by KaCole



Series: Busted [6]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Busted, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Metaphors, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sweetness, Tension, cute alien creatures, janeway won't let anyone steal her man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 17:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17451524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaCole/pseuds/KaCole
Summary: It seems there's a thief aboard Voyager.Seven falls into step beside Chakotay. “Is it your intention to engage in sexual intercourse with Captain Janeway tonight?”“What?” he splutters. “Of course not.”





	The Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Killermanatee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killermanatee/gifts), [khurst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khurst/gifts).



> many thanks to @Killermantee for the beta read and encouragement!

On the starship _Voyager_ , in the aeroponics bay, inside a tall plant that the captain has deemed _trouble_ due to its wandering vines, two creatures have lived happily for several months.

They each have six compound eyes and twelve long, long legs, and might easily resemble gangly, silver spiders except they shimmer and phase shift and blend perfectly into whatever surface they find themselves on. Currently, they are green and brown.

These creatures are called skitlings.

Now, skitlings are creatures of pure instinct. All a male skitling knows is that when his queen rattles out the command _it's time for the next growth phase,_ he needs to build them a bigger home.

The stowaway scuttles off to search out what he needs.

#

“Did you use my comb?” Tom grumbles at B'Elanna.

“Of course not. Try the drawer. Perhaps it magically tidied itself away.”

“Not there. I _like_ that comb. It's travelled a lot of light years with me.”

“It's just a comb, Tom. You can replicate another.”

“Not the point.”

#

“Neelix, where's Captain Puffle?” Naomi calls.

“In your bed?”

“I looked. She isn't there.”

“ _Under_ the bed?”

“I checked there too.”

“Perhaps your mother put her through a cleansing cycle in the replicator.”

“Noooo! I like her just as she is!”

“How about Flobbit?” Neelix picks up a creature with a blue tail and floppy ears. “He hasn't been in your bed for a while. I think he's a little lonely.”

Naomi scowls. “I want Captain Puffle.”

#

Neelix returns to his own quarters, ready to retire for the night, but it’s clearly a day for things vanishing. When he looks for the silver scissors he's used to trim his whiskers since he was a scrap of boy, they are nowhere to be found. Many years ago his father stood with him in front of a mirror much like this one, and showed him how to trim his whiskers, just so. Maybe it's foolish, but sometimes, as he trims his whiskers he sees his father's face and feels a warm hand on his shoulder. He remembers things like family, and love, and home. Good memories to carry across the Delta Quadrant.

Sometimes, a pair of scissors is not _just_ a pair of scissors.     

#

After a shift in astrometrics, Seven of Nine considers returning to her alcove. There is some time before she needs to regenerate, and she is in a restless mood. Lately she’s experienced a resurgence in curiosity about her biological functioning. Her transition to solid food had unwelcome consequences, so that stalled her exploration for a while. But recently she’s been experimenting with other more intimate—sexual—aspects of her physicality, which is turning out to be a much more rewarding experience.

That said, Seven’s solo explorations have reached a plateau.

She needs a partner.

In her quest for perfection, Seven routinely tracks all things related to ship’s efficiency, extending to crew movements and off duty social activity. She observed, for instance, that after spending the night in Mike Ayala's quarters, Ensign Vallis was thirteen minutes late for duty. After a somewhat awkward efficiency briefing, Tom Paris took her aside and told her that she didn't need to report “who’s banging who”. Since then she merely notes patterns.

These patterns are useful in drawing up a shortlist of candidates to explore her sexuality with. Since she has no frame of reference by which to judge suitability of a mate, she must find a way to evaluate suitability. Sometimes one can make inferences from the behaviour of others, so this is a tactic Seven adopts.

She has come to value the captain’s judgement. It stands to reason that as leader of the vessel, Captain Janeway would chose the most high value, resourceful and aesthetically pleasing individual for her partner, and evidently Captain Janeway chose Commander Chakotay. As the relationship has endured for at least several months, it is reasonable to conclude that Chakotay is a satisfactory sexual partner. Therefore, it is also reasonable to conclude he would satisfy Seven, too.

Based on this analysis, Seven reduces her shortlist to one.

The captain _did_ tell Seven she should explore her humanity. There's part of Seven that wants to exceed her mentor, and this, she reasons, is a way to do it.   

Seven proceeds to deck three, ready to commence her experiment immediately. Chakotay is in the corridor between his quarters and the Captain’s.

Seven falls into step beside him.

“Commander Chakotay. Since we returned from shore leave, you have visited Captain Janeway’s quarters eleven times, and she yours on four occasions.”

He shrugs. “We often have ship's business to discuss.”

“I see. Is it your intention to engage in sexual intercourse with Captain Janeway tonight?”

“What?” he splutters. “Of course not.”

He flushes deep red and his pupils dilate. His heart rate notably increases.

Seven goes on, “I wish to—”

Chakotay raises a hand. “I'm sorry. I've left something in my quarters. Excuse me.” He spins around, returns the way he came, and without giving her the chance to say another word, he shuts the door.  

#

Chakotay pulls his stomach in and leans back against the door. _That_ was a conversation he never wants to repeat. How does Seven know these things? Is she spying on them? He resolves to check exactly what she's been monitoring and put a stop to it.

He waits until a decent interval has passed. “Computer, locate Seven of Nine.”

“Seven of Nine is in her regeneration alcove.”

“Good.” With a sense of relief and only slightly dampened spirits, he resumes his previous course to the captain’s quarters.

#

Kathryn doesn't like admitting it, even to herself, but she's watching the clock while she waits for Chakotay. Somehow, lately, it doesn't feel like the evening begins until he gets here. The door chimes.

Chakotay looks disturbed. “I just got accosted by Seven in the corridor.”

“Oh?”

“She wanted to know if it was my intention to come in here and engage in sexual intercourse with you.”

“Oh hell. What’d you tell her?”

“I denied everything, of course. Marched back to my room and then snuck back here as soon as the coast was clear.”

“But Seven suspects?” Kathryn frowns.

“Who knows what goes on in that Borg brain of hers.”

“We need to be more careful.”

Chakotay nods sagely. “Let’s throw her off the scent. I could start chasing other women, and you could pretend to fall in love with a hologram.”

They both look at each other. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“I'm embarrassed I even said it,” he agrees.

Kathryn shakes her head, and then smiles. “As a matter of interest, what _are_ your intentions?”

He laughs softly. “Ironically, I wasn't even thinking about sex tonight. I was hoping we'd eat dinner, put on some music, and then maybe finish those long range supply projections.”

She smiles, because there is something heart-warming in the scene he paints, seamlessly blending their work and personal lives. She likes it a lot more than she probably should.

After dinner, they spend an hour or so looking at those reports, and work out the furthest distance they can safely travel before it's essential to restock. After that, they sit on the sofa. It's too cosy buy half, with the music and a glass of red wine, and within twenty minutes Kathryn finds herself dozing against Chakotay’s shoulder.

“It's late,” he says softly as he nudges her awake. “I should let you get some rest. We both have the early shift in the morning.”

Kathryn looks at him through an affectionate haze. “I _am_ tired and need to sleep. But…I suppose there'd be no harm in you staying anyway. If you want to.”

He smiles, looking a little surprised. “I'd like that.”

She stands up, tidies the glasses, stoppers the half bottle of wine, and then says without thinking, “We can finish this tomorrow.” She pauses. There’s an assumption laden in that statement: that tomorrow she will invite him and he will come.

Their eyes meet, and he nods. “Good idea.” He’s telling her he’s noticed it too, this merging of the small details of their lives. She thinks it makes him happy. She thinks it makes her happy too.

Later, as he lays by her side in the darkness, breathing gently, Kathryn wonders if this is another milestone between them, this desire to spend the night together, without sex. It feels like it's more about companionship, and comfort, and love.

 _Love_.

The word sends a small shiver down her spine. What's she so afraid of? She knows in her bones she's as ready to settle down as she's ever likely to be, and he’s the one she wants to settle down _with_. She's a little surprised that she knows it so profoundly, but she does. He is kind, attentive, passionate, brave. She might be a scientist and organiser, but he's a builder, and there's something deeply attractive about that.

He may not have said it out loud, but she thinks he’s ready to build a life with her. Even out here in the Delta Quadrant. Question is, can they square these desires with their duty? Or will this life they are snatching together turn out to be a house of cards?   

#

The devoted male skitling has scoured the ship for the right things to make his nest. Not just any raw materials will do, though. They need to have that glow about them, the aura that tells a skitling these items are special. Because what the items are made of is irrelevant. What matters is how well they are loved.

It's not in the little thief's nature to consider the feelings of the individuals who have lost the objects he has stolen. He is busy building his nest, using his powerful mandibles to pulverise plastic, fur, and metal. The skitling spits the digested mass between the bulkheads in damp, silver threads. He makes a criss-cross pattern and then swings back and forth, all night long, weaving, weaving, weaving a new home for his queen. The skitling isn't concerned with anything else in the universe. Just building a home for his beloved.

#

The next evening, Chakotay is on his way back from the bridge and almost bolts out of the turbo lift when Seven steps into it. He tells himself not to be ridiculous.

Without preamble, Seven halts the lift and turns to him. “I believe I would make a superior partner for you than Captain Janeway.”

“What?” he exclaims, heart sinking.

“The doctor tells me shared interests are important for a fulfilling relationship. I possess the archaeological and paelotogolical knowledge of several thousand worlds. We would have plenty to discuss.”

“Look, Seven, I don’t know where you got the idea Captain Janeway and I—”

“I am also capable of faster high level brain functions than any human.”

“Wait. You’re saying you're smarter than her?” He shakes his head, hardly able to believe what he's hearing.

“My raw processing power is superior. Captain Janeway may have more experience, but I am a fast learner. I adapt.” If she stopped to glance in his direction she would surely see the look of horror on his face, but Seven continues unabated. “The captain is responsible for everyone on this crew. She has limited time and energy to devote to a relationship.”

Chakotay splutters, “Do you think that makes a difference? Computer. Resume turbo lift. Deck three.”

“I am able to bear children,” Seven goes on. “The captain’s age may preclude that option.”

Chakotay feels slightly queasy. “I don't think—”

“My Borg physiology also gives me increased sexual stamina. I have studied the mating practices of—”

“Seven, stop!” Chakotay takes a deep breath, his blood boiling. “ _Hypothetically_ , if I was in a relationship with Captain Janeway, and I’m not saying I am, but it would be because I love her, which would mean—”

“ _Hypothetically_ , you could come to love _me_.” Seven looks satisfied with her reasoning. He wants to shake her.

“It doesn't work that way!” He runs his hands through his short hair in frustration. How can even Seven be this clueless? “Look, Seven. All those things you said might be true. But they don't make a difference, not to me. Let me say this very clearly. I'm not interested.”

Seven’s face registers surprise. Then she regains her composure and stares straight ahead. “You are making a relationship error.”

“Maybe,” he says, as the lift door mercifully opens. “But I’m not making it with you.”

#

“Seven propositioned me,” Chakotay tells Kathryn as they sit down to eat in her quarters.

“She did _what_?” Kathryn stares at Chakotay, who appears to be working hard at keeping his face neutral.

“Tried to convince me she would be the perfect partner.”

“Oh? Did it work?” Kathryn's voice is tight. Although she does her best to squash the insane surge of jealousy, she’s not sure how well she’s succeeding.

“Not for a second. Although, I have to admit it was a bit flattering.” His smile breaks lose, much to Kathryn’s chagrin.

“I'll have her cleaning the warp plasma injectors for a month,” Kathryn growls, and she is only half joking. She'll tolerate a lot of dubious behaviour from Seven, but she won't ignore the former Borg drone trying to steal her man.  

#

In the morning briefing, Chakotay can barely look at Seven. Kathryn hasn’t mentioned _that_ conversation again, but he doubts she’s forgotten.  

The final item on the agenda is from Tuvok. “It has come to my attention that the crew are complaining about a number of missing personal items.”

“What items?” Kathryn asks.

Tuvok raises an eyebrow and reads from a PADD.  “A pair of scissors. A stuffed toy. A book. Tools. A holo-image. The list contains some twenty three items.”

“And my comb…” Tom pipes up, and all eyes turn to him. “I’ve had it a long time,” he adds, looking a little embarrassed.

Tuvok frowns. “These items seem to be of little significance; however, the crew appears disproportionately disturbed by the losses.”

“These items are not insignificant!” Neelix exclaims.

Seven speaks. **“** If the items being stolen are not necessary for the safe functioning of this ship, then—”

Kathryn cuts across her. “These items may not be vital components. But they have high personal value. Don't underestimate the emotional attachments involved.”

“Emotional attachment is not always the most pertinent issue.”

“There's a principle at stake,” Kathryn snaps. “A moral imperative. It's not right to take something that isn't yours.” Kathryn lays her hand briefly on Chakotay's shoulder, and then continues her prowl around the briefing room. “We either have a stowaway on board or there’s a thief among us.” She smiles directly at Seven. The smile is polite, and disarming and completely terrifying. “Personally, I see us as more of a family than a traditional crew. Loyal to one another. I’d like to think that no one here would steal your comb, Tom.” She says ‘Tom’, but she’s still staring at Seven.

“What if the alleged thief simply wants access to the comb?” Seven asks.

“Then I’d say assume the comb’s owner would put up one hell of a fight.” Kathryn holds Seven’s gaze mercilessly.

Chakotay flushes. Seven looks away, and Tom just looks confused.

Tuvok glances around the room and then stands up. “Captain. I will direct all my resources into resolving this situation.”

Kathryn nods. “Thank you Tuvok. Dismissed.”

Chakotay hangs back after the senior staff leave, his heart fizzing a little, although he tries to keep from appearing too smug. “That must be a hell of a comb.”

“Mind your ego, Commander,” Kathryn snaps, pacing the briefing room. Then she sighs and sits down. “Do you think she got the message?”

#

Shortly after the briefing, Tuvok arrives in astrometrics. “Seven, a word with you, if I may?”

“Certainly.” Seven doesn’t stop what she is doing. She’s bubbling a bit inside, and she’s not altogether sure why, so she stays focused on the data she's examining.

“You appear troubled.”

She is surprised at Tuvok taking an interest in her psychological state. However, she cannot deny she is experiencing a level of internal discomfort. The doctor has told her many times that it is helpful to talk troubling issues through.

“I am attempting to broaden my range of human experiences.”

“I see. This has proved problematic?”

Seven narrows her eyes. “I have observed that the captain and Commander Chakotay frequently spend their off duty time together.”

“Humans require time to socialise. There is nothing unusual about that.”

“I met the commander in the corridor by the captain’s quarters. When I questioned him, he denied that it was his intention was visit Captain Janeway. He returned to his own room. However, thirty one minutes and twenty seconds later he proceeded to the captain’s quarters, where he remained for a further seven hours and forty minutes. They emerged separately and proceeded independently to the bridge, whereupon they greeted each other, and the captain publically enquired whether the commander slept well.”

“I see. And what do you infer, based on these facts?”

“The captain and Commander Chakotay are having a sexual relationship.”

“Anything else?”

Seven pauses and frowns. “That they wish to conceal the nature of their relationship from the crew?”

Tuvok nods. “Hypothetically speaking, if it became common knowledge that the captain and Commander Chakotay were conducting themselves in the way you suggest, I calculate that every crew member would take it upon themselves to discuss the fact on approximately two point three occasions, thus distracting them from their duties for an average of twenty three minutes. Ship wide, this would cause a drop in efficiency of nine percent.”

Seven contemplates this. “It would be counterproductive for me to cause a drop in efficiency.”

“Agreed. However, I am not sure that your motives in this matter relate only to ship’s efficiency.”

Seven glances his way. “I suggested to Commander Chakotay that I would be a more suitable sexual partner than Captain Janeway. He refused my offer. I do not understand.”

Tuvok raises an eyebrow. “It would appear the commander has deep feelings for the captain. Furthermore, he wishes to remain in an exclusive relationship. That is reason enough to refuse your offer.” Tuvok walks to the far end of astrometrics, and then turns back. If he was human, she might interpret this as nerves. “Have you also considered that Captain Janeway would suffer distress if you stole Commander Chakotay from her?”

“I had not considered the captain’s feelings.” Seven clearly has not been in possession of all relevant facts. It would indeed be undesirable in terms both of ship’s efficiency and the captain’s emotional wellbeing for Seven to pursue a relationship with Chakotay further. “Perhaps my attempt to engage the commander in a relationship was an error. I will not proceed.”

#

Tuvok returns to his station. Another fire put out, as the captain might say. He has recently spent a significant portion of time putting out the captain’s fires. He sees this as his duty to the ship, and also an act of friendship to Captain Janeway, but he is unsure how much longer he can contain her secret. It would be more logical for the captain to be open about her relationship with Commander Chakotay. It might cause a distraction for a while, but logic dictates that any intrigue would blow over, and life on _Voyager_ would proceed unabated. Still, it is not his place to tell the captain how to conduct her personal affairs.

He turns his attention to the possibility of a stowaway. It doesn’t take him long to see a pattern. When he plots the location of each stolen item and the time it was reported missing, it’s clear the spate of thefts radiates outward from a central point. Tuvok takes a phaser and a tricorder, and orders a security team to meet him in the aeroponics bay.  

#

Kathryn stands with her hands on her hips, staring at a shimmering, dripping mass of webbing in the corner of the aeroponics bay. In the centre, a creature stares back at her. Its body is no bigger than Kathryn's fist, but its thin legs are as long as her forearm. Six eyes stare back at her. Behind the first creature is another, slightly smaller one. There are no signs of the stolen goods, but Tuvok tells her the web is made of biomass that was once the crew’s missing items.   

Also, Kathryn is standing by a shimmering puddle. She crouches and scans it with her tricorder. Tuvok has already told her what’s dripping from the silvery threads and pooling at her feet, but she has a hard time believing it.

“Deuterium.” Kathryn says, shaking her head. Nearly all deuterium found in nature was produced in the Big Bang, so to find a creature capable of metabolising it is, well, a Starfleet first, to say the least. “You’re telling me that these little creatures took a comb and a stuffed toy and made this magnificent web, and the by-product of all that is _deuterium_?”

“Evidently,” Tuvok says.

“We could power the impulse engines for a week on this, right here.” Kathryn straightens up. “How did these stowaways get aboard? And why didn’t we detect them?”

“I am uncertain where or when they arrived. However, they seem to be able to phase shift as a method of camouflage. This enabled them to avoid detection by our scanners.”

Kathryn is heartily impressed by the ingenious creatures, and already wondering if they might be persuaded to manufacture more engine fuel. They are entwined in the heart of their web, long arms curled around each other, pulsing silver, fading in and out of sight.

“They look very peaceful together,” she says. “No need to disturb them. Let’s put them behind a level ten force field, and get the doctor down to take a look.”

“Aye, Captain,” says Tuvok. Kathryn turns to leave, but he isn’t finished. “Captain, many creatures find comfort in the companionship of another. It is not wrong.”

Kathryn smiles curiously at her old friend, and wonders exactly what he knows or suspects about her need for companionship. Perhaps her comments in the morning briefing were unwise.

She squeezes his arm. “If only our lives were that simple.”

#

It’s late, and Kathryn gets up from her bed and pulls on a robe.

Chakotay lays on his back, watching her. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got something for you,” she says, disappearing into her bathroom. She returns seconds later with her hand behind her back, her heart beating a little faster. She tells herself not to be afraid of what she’s about to do.  

He tries to grab her wrist. “What is it?”

Almost shyly, she presents him with a toothbrush.

“You replicated this for me?” He smiles softly, his eyes warm and kind. “Our stowaway didn’t steal my toothbrush, Kathryn. You don’t have to worry about thieves.”

She shakes her head, wishing she had the courage to say there _is_ a thief aboard, and he’s stolen her heart. She can’t tell him that, so she just swallows.

He takes the toothbrush and smiles.

She thinks he knows this is about more than his oral health. It’s an invitation. Perhaps a confession, even though she can’t find the right words to say out loud what’s in her heart.

He looks up and touches her cheek. “Thank you,” he says. He kisses her lips gently.

Sometimes a toothbrush is not _just_ a toothbrush.

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments always make my day <3


End file.
